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Monday, March 24, 2014

The Folds of Grace

Some days just ring hollowas if all the hopes I’ve thrown long and wide justswirl round and roundslower and slowerfrom the weight borne upon them

And then there are daysthat the black bird returnsflash of red upon his winghis call creaky like an old iron gatecausing me to squint upwardsinto the still bare tree limb in silhouettethe strengthening sun finding new firebehind it

Some days roll in atop thepink foam of fitful nightsand the sandy grit bristles hardagainst the murky glassleaving an etched line that will takehours to polish out

The rest of this poem can be found over at SheLoves Magazine where I am writing today. Follow this link and join me there? I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments, either here or there.